


In narcotico veritas

by Pegship



Category: Castle
Genre: Castle is a good bro, F/M, Flirting, Tumblr: castlefanficprompts, under the influence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 10:39:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9177892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pegship/pseuds/Pegship
Summary: Kate gets her wisdom teeth out and while in the car she talks about Castle’s booty the whole entire way to her apartment.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt on castlefanficprompts: "Castle?' "Yes?" "You have a really nice booty." Kate gets her wisdom teeth out and while in the car she talks about Castle’s butt the whole entire way to her apartment. (S4) http://castlefanficprompts.tumblr.com/post/137578149935/castle-yes-you-have-a-really-nice-booty
> 
> Hope this suits.

The phone rings. Castle answers from his spot in the armchair, mind far far away, laptop screen reminding him that he Should Be Writing.

“Richard Castle.”

“Mr. Castle? This is Dr. Manganiello’s office calling.”

“Doctor who?” 

“Manganiello. We have a patient here - oh dear, this is awkward - she told us to call you.”

“Alexis? Martha?” He sits up straight, the laptop sliding to one side. “Is it an emergency?”

“No, no, she just needs a ride home. She said - Ms. Beckett, please - “

Beckett? What the hell?

The lady herself comes on the line. “Castle, izzat you?”

“Beckett, what the hell?”

“Oh God. These are NOT the good drugs. Here, you talk.” 

She apparently hands off the phone, back to the first caller, who says, “Ms. Beckett came in to have her wisdom teeth removed. She told us she had a ride home, and now she doesn’t remember who it was, but obviously they’re not here.”

“And she’s under the influence,” Castle acknowledges. “Got it. I can come round right away and pick her up - what’s the address?”

= =

When Castle gets to the dentist’s office it’s almost dark outside, and there are no patients in the waiting area. There’s a receptionist, who comes over with a relieved expression.

“Mr. Castle? I’m so glad you could come. She just needs to sleep it off - we’ve given her some prescription painkillers for when she wakes up. Is there anyone who can stay with her for a few hours, just to be sure she’s okay?”

“I’ll be happy to Beckett-sit,” says Rick genially. “No trouble at all. We’re friends and all.”

He provides his own references, courtesy of the NYPD (he has a letter he carries in his wallet), and the doctor deems him worthy to take Beckett off their hands.

Beckett herself is in a little room next to the doctor’s own office, stretched out on a cot with her coat draped over her and her shoes off. The lights are dim, but as Castle tiptoes into the room she turns her head and opens her eyes about halfway. Then she smiles, a crooked, drunken smile, and says, “Castle! What are you doing here?”

“Come to take you home, partner,” he says briskly. He maneuvers Beckett into a sitting position and gets her shoes on - thank God she doesn’t have to stagger along in the usual sky-high boots - and she’s turned into Chatty Cathy all of a sudden.

“This isn’t my bed,” she notes, trying to look around and leaning dangerously far off the bed. “Why isn’t this my bed?”

“You’re at the doctor’s,” Castle says. “I’m going to take you home. Stand up, now, let’s get your coat on you. That’s it.” It’s like dressing a recalcitrant toddler. Fond memories.

She’s standing, swaying, suddenly looking right up at him like he’s the only thing she can focus on. “You’re taking me home? You’ll take me home again, Kathleen - “ she sings, then says, “No, wait. You’ll take me home again, Cass-sssllllllle - nope, that doesn’t work.”

The receptionist is giggling as Castle gets his arm around Beckett and guides her to the door. He grins at the lady and says, “At least she’s a happy drunk.”

“I’ve seen ‘em all,” says the receptionist, shaking her head. “Good night, Ms. Beckett. And thanks again, Mr. Castle. Call our emergency number if she needs anything.”

Beckett launches into an unsteady chorus of “I don’t need anything but you!” (from Annie) as they proceed along the hallway.

= =

“Here we are,” says Castle as he unlocks his car and opens the back door. Beckett stops humming show tunes and looks up.

“This isn’t my bed,” she frowns. “I thought you were taking me to bed, Castle.”

He makes a supreme effort to refrain from his usual innuendo - it’d be wasted on her right now, anyway - and says, “As soon as you get in the car, we’ll be on our way.”

He puts her in the front passenger seat, making sure to secure her seatbelt and engage the child lock on the door in case she suddenly opts to disembark while they’re in motion.

All in all, it’s been an entertaining evening. If his hands weren’t full (and if he knew Beckett wouldn’t eviscerate him for it) he’d be playing Twenty Questions with her and recording it on his iPhone. Musing that there’s still time for that, he opens the driver’s side door to get in and starts to slide into his seat - 

and finds himself landing on something that is definitely not luxuriously soft faux leather. Something small and warm and - wriggling.

Beckett is laughing so hard she’s snorting, which is adorable, but at the moment Castle’s attention is riveted to her left hand, which she’d spread, palm up, on the driver’s seat, just in time for him to plant his ass on it. And now she’s squeezing his butt, groping him through the seat of his pants, and he’s caught between being really amused, really embarrassed, and slightly aroused.

He goes with amused.

“I don’t remember ordering the custom massage seat option on this model,” he drawls, delighted when she laughs some more, but she doesn’t remove her hand, so he goes on, “Come on, Beckett, I’m gonna get pulled over for distracted driving.”

She withdraws her hand, but sticks her tongue out at him, and he’s really, really glad he has to drive the car because if they were behind closed doors he’d be happy to deal with that tongue up close and personal.

They’re on the street in moderately slow traffic when Beckett speaks up.

“You have a really great ass, by the way.”

Her tone is casual and when he glances at her he can see her eyes are still not really tracking, so he chalks up the random comment to her condition. Inwardly, of course, he’s flattered, but she can’t really mean it. Can she?

“I mean, as far as I can tell without seeing you naked,” she continues conversationally. “That time with the dog? I’m so glad he didn’t actually damage you. Just your pants. It was worth it just to watch you walk away with your boxers showing.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did. Along with the rest of the bullpen.” She snickers. “Karpowski won the bet on that one.”

“What’d you bet on?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“Boxers or briefs. I shoulda peeked, when you put me up after my - after the fire.”

“You shoulda,” he smirks. Imagining Beckett sneaking into his bedroom to peruse his underwear drawer is definitely a distraction, so he shelves that thought for now and concentrates on the road.

“Bad enough just watching you slouch around in those pajama pants,” she grouses. “With your bed hair and your big ol’ sleepy blue eyes.”

Castle is reminded of her tousled ponytail and un-made-up skin and her damn yoga pants and feels completely unrepentant. He also feels mildly surprised to find, upon reflection, that he’s never had a good look at her booty. (The kitchen in the Russian poker den was poorly lit and he had only a glimpse before she barked at him for backup.)

A taxi horn blares and he’s startled out of his pleasant reverie.

= =

“Home sweet home,” Castle announces as he parks on the street and trots around to retrieve Beckett from the car. Of all the times for her to fall asleep, now would not be his choice, but he volunteered for this mission and he’s going to complete it. Carrying her bridal style, he won’t get far, so once he gets her out of her seat he hoists her into a fireman’s carry. Undignified, but with any luck none of her neighbors will recognize her with her face hidden against his coat.

When they make it to Beckett’s apartment, fortunately unobserved, Castle fishes her keys out of her coat pocket, unlocks the door, and hauls her inside. He drops her and the keys onto her sofa and turns on a light, and when he turns back he sees that she’s awake again. Figures.

“Hey,” he smiles, kneeling beside the sofa as she squints up at him.

“Castle? What are you doing here?” She glances around. “Home. I’m home. How did I get here?”

Castle chuckles. “Well, you clicked your heels together three times and said - “

She flails a limp hand against his arm. “Funny. That only works with the red shoes. Mine are - “ she peers downward - “black.” She starts to remove her shoes but runs out of energy after the first one, so Castle takes care of the second shoe and then gets her to sit up so he can take her coat off.

When he comes back from hanging up her coat, she’s taking off her blouse. Trying to - the buttons are apparently fighting her and she’s making huffy frustrated noises.

“Castle, help me out with this.”

He’s tempted to look around for a hidden camera. Instead, he lifts her up by her shoulders and helps her stumble toward her bedroom while she continues to fiddle with her buttons. He sits her down on the bed and says firmly, “Stay. Don’t move. And don’t take off any more clothes.”

Ducking into the bathroom to get her a glass of water, he fishes the bottle of painkillers out of his pocket and leaves it on the counter, then returns to the bedroom, where Beckett has given up on buttons and hauled her blouse off over her head.

She looks up at Castle and scowls. “My house, my rules.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yes, Your Highnessness. Here, drink some of this, you should hydrate before you go to sleep.”

She drinks the water and he thinks she might have settled down a bit, but when he pulls back the covers on the bed she looks startled.

“This is my bed,” she says. “You go sleep in your own bed. Geez, Castle.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He grins and goes to sit next to her on the bed, ducking when she tries to grab hold of his ear. “Come on, Beckett. You need to lie down. I’ll just go hang out in the other room. Come on, now.”

“No pants. Gotta take off my pants.” A wicked grin spreads over her face. “I will if you will.”

“What, take my pants off?” This is either the most amazing moment of his life, or possibly one of the last moments of his life. “I’m not going to bed, I don’t need to get undressed.”

“I won’t if you won’t,” she pouts.

Castle shrugs. “Go ahead and sleep in your clothes. Your house, your rules. Doesn’t look comfortable, though.”

“‘Nope, it isn’t,” she agrees. “Guess I’ll have to do this the hard way.”

He thinks she’s giving up - but no, she’s lunging at him, grabbing hold of his waistband and tugging on his belt loops. Fortunately, she’s only at about half her usual strength and agility, so his pants don’t go very far, but he can’t detach her grip. 

He gives in to the ridiculousness of the whole situation and flops back onto the bed, laughing along with her and letting himself enjoy the sensation of her arms around his waist - wait, what? She’s going for his fly and that’s just - 

“Hey, hey,” he protests. Fortunately, she’s giggling too hard to get the zipper to cooperate.

“But your booty, Castle,” she says. “I want to see your booty. Up close and personal.”

She’s propped on one elbow, yawning mightily, half under the covers, and how she can pout and yawn at the same time is beyond him. Finally he gets an idea as to how to gain her cooperation, in one regard at least.

“Tell you what,” he says. “You take off your pants - just your pants, now - and let me tuck you in. And then - “ He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“Then you’ll show me your butt?”

“Sure.”

Her eyes narrow suspiciously. “Pinky swear.”

Immediately he complies and is treated to the sight of Beckett shimmying out of her pants while still lying down. She tosses them on the floor, tucks her hands behind her head, and smirks at him.

“Pay up, Castle.”

He stands up and walks over to the bedroom doorway, preparing for a quick getaway, and Beckett whines, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I said you could see it. I’m staying out of groping range.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” she echoes his previous sentiment. Castle just shrugs and turns off the bedroom light, leaving on only a dim lamp in the corner. His back is to the bed, so keeping an ear out for sounds of a sneak attack, he unbuckles his belt and unfastens the button on his jeans.  
“Ready?” he asks over his shoulder.

“So ready,” she purrs.

“Are you sure?”

“Been dreaming about it,” she tells him. “Wanna see. Wanna touch. Castle, come on.”

“Just remember,” he says, “you asked for it.”

He isn’t often bashful about being naked or even semi-naked, but usually it takes a few drinks, a dare, and/or a lot of flirting before he drops trou. Then there’s the added complication - 

He’s not wearing any underwear. Boxers, briefs, or anything in between. Part of him is whooping lasciviously as he pushes his pants down; another part regrets that this is how the love of his life gets to see his naked tush for the first time.

He sneaks a peek over his shoulder to see Beckett looking - aghast? impressed? disgusted?

“My God, Castle,” she breathes. “You have the finest ass east of the Mississippi. I swear.”

Aroused, then. Relief and pride and desire pour over him as he pulls up his pants and restores order to his outfit (and the universe). He turns to look at Beckett, smiling dreamily from her pillow, and says softly, “Sweet dreams, Beckett.”

“Oh, they will be,” she replies. “Thanks to you.”

Five minutes later he looks in on her to find her sleeping, covers tucked up under her chin, lamplight framing her form, and that’s the one picture he takes, saves, to remember this crazy evening.

He’s not sure whether he hopes she remembers it.

*

There’s a tap on Kate’s door, two days after her procedure.

“Who is it, I have a gun,” she calls out from her nest on the sofa. “Ow.”

The door opens and Lanie comes in.

“Now I know you’re feeling rotten,” she says. “You left the door unlocked *and* you said ‘ow’. Kind of ruined the effect of ‘I have a gun’.”

She smiles, then squeezes Kate’s hand before going into the kitchen to stash some goodies she brought. Kate watches blearily from the sofa; eventually Lanie comes to sit next to her, handing her a cup of tea and setting down a container of yogurt for her nearby.

“Please tell me you’re taking your pain meds.”

“They make me woozy. I have been using cold packs.”

Leanie shakes her head. “This is why I’d rather deal with the dead. They don’t argue or make their own medical decisions.”

“Not any more,” Kate points out. That gets a faint grin from Lanie, who upon further interrogation finds that her friend took some OTC ibuprofen mid-morning, that she’s due for another dose, and that Lanie will get her some and she is not to argue, is that clear?

They settle into the comfort of fluffy blankets, food, and a selection of DVDs. 

Kate says to Lanie, after Groundhog Day and Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, “Thanks again, so much, for coming over and distracting me. I hate being grounded like this.”

“My pleasure, sweetie. I know what a pain it is - I had mine out when I was in college. Trying to sleep and heal while living in a dorm full of crazy noisemakers - I needed all the narcotics I could get.”

“Better living through chemistry?” Kate snickers. “Yeah, I was pretty high there for a while. And had the worst hangover ever.”

“You know I would have come over if you needed me,” Lanie says.

“Thanks, but I got home okay, then it was just…” Kate trails off at Lanie’s glare. “What?”

“How *did* you get home, Kate? I seem to recall you telling me you had a ride, but the next day nobody at the precinct knew anything about it. Your dad’s out of town, you said, so…Please do not tell me you took the subway. Or a cab. No doctor worth his degree would let you.”

“I did not take the subway or a cab,” Kate says solemnly. “I did call for a ride, apparently. Or they called for me, I don’t remember everything.”

She realizes what Lanie’s going to ask next, just as Lanie opens her mouth, and Kate would have kicked herself for even bringing up the subject if it had been anatomically possible. And if her face didn’t hurt so much that moving at all was a chore.

“Who’d they call?”

Kate shoves a spoonful of yogurt into her mouth and mumbles, “Castle.”

Lanie’s glare softens just a little, into something more amused.

“Did you say ‘Castle’?”

Kate nods.

“Richard Castle. Writer Boy, nine year old on a sugar rush?”

Kate nods again.

“What *do* you remember?” Lanie asks, and now her expression resembled that of the Cheshire Cat.

Kate takes another spoonful of yogurt to stall for time. Once she swallows, she says, “I don’t know why he was the one they called.” (She has a vague memory of handing over her phone and directing someone imperiously to “call Mr. Castle”.) “I remember he drove me here - “

“In the Ferrari?”

“I don’t think so.” Kate frowns (she would have remembered that, for sure). “He got me inside and I got into bed, and he said he’d hang around and make sure I was okay.”

“That’s all?”

“The next morning he was gone. He left a note saying he’d had to go home and get Alexis off to school.”

“Sweet,” Lanie says. “So, you didn’t make a pass at him or anything?”

“Lanie! Ow. Why would I do that?”

“It’s the perfect excuse. You’re drugged to the gills, oops, was that your booty I just grabbed, I’m so sorry - Did he make a pass at you?”

“I don’t remember,” says Kate, uncomfortably uncertain. “Can we just go on to the next movie, please?”

Next is “What’s Your Number?”, a comedy with Anna Faris and Chris Evans, who is scantily clad in much of the movie, thus affording plenty of catty conversation between the viewers. 

“Now that’s what I call one-on-one,” Lanie says appreciatively during a scene when the two characters are playing H-O-R-S-E for clothing; Evans is down to boxer briefs and Faris is sporting a magenta bra and panties. Afterward, the two collect most of their clothes and take a walk along Boston Harbor in the middle of the night, and Evans challenges Faris to jump into the harbor...and starts taking off his clothes again.

“Take it off, take it all off!” Kate and Lanie are snorting with laughter, watching as the two characters leave a trail of clothing on the pavement and get ready to jump.

“I do not care if that’s a body double,” Lanie says, “that is one fine booty on that man. Whoever he is.”

“Well, if you like ‘em skinny,” Kate teases. “Give me a guy with something I can grab onto.”

“For example?”

“Like Castle.”

Lanie turns to stare at her, the movie forgotten, as Kate realizes what just fell out of her mouth, as the memory of said booty rises more clearly in her mind. She buries her face in her hands and mutters, “Oh my God. Oh, my God. What did I do?”

“What did you do?” Lanie asks gleefully. “And how, and where? I already know with whom.”

“Lanie - I didn’t. I mean, I didn’t have sex with him.” (No, she just - groped him in his car. And tried to pants him.) “He was a perfect gentleman.”

“Mm-hmm. And you were a perfect lady?” her friend says skeptically.

“Well...it’s still a little hazy…” (Parts of it are crystal clear. Why does that part have to be crystal clear?) I got home, he got me a glass of water - I was sitting on my bed.” Kate steels herself for more teasing. “I took off my blouse.”

Lanie whoops. “I hope you were wearing something nice under it, girl.”

“I don’t know what I was wearing.” (That sounded bad.) “A bra, some kind of bra. And then I wanted to take my pants off - “ (Stop, Kate says to her subconscious, stop remembering, right there - ) “and I may have tried to - get him to take his off first.”

“May have? Kate, you don’t do anything by halves. You know you tried. What happened then?”

“He said he’d show me his butt if I let him tuck me in.”

“And by ‘tuck you in’ he meant - ?”

“Just that,” Kate snaps. “He just wanted me to go to sleep so he could leave.”

“Riiiiiight. So did he keep his end of the bargain?”

“I took off my pants - yes, I was wearing underwear! - and I got under the covers, and he went and stood in the doorway and dropped his pants. For a second.” (The longest second of my life, she thinks, and still not long enough.) “That was it. He put his pants back on, I went to sleep. End of story.”

“You must have gotten a good look,” says Lanie. “Enough to compare him to Chris Evans.”

“Why are we talking about Castle’s ass?”

“Because you’ve seen it now, and you can’t un-see it. I bet it’s a good double handful, mmm.”

“All I did was look.”

“You disappoint me.”

“He was out of range,” says Kate, then buries her head in her hands again. (Why do these things keep escaping her mouth?)

“You must have noticed what he was wearing underneath,” Lanie prompts.

Kate gives up any attempt to filter her mouth, as it hasn’t been working at all today, and says with resignation, “Nothing.”

“You didn’t see anything?”

“No. I mean, he was wearing nothing. Commando. Butt naked. Au naturel.”

If Kate wasn’t so embarrassed at her own behavior she would enjoy Lanie’s reaction, which was a wordless widening of her eyes...and her grin.

“I’m never going to live this down,” moans Kate. “Maybe I can get him banned from the precinct. Like, forever.”

“Oh come on,” says Lanie. “First of all, not gonna happen. The Captain and the mayor like the publicity too much. Secondly, the man was trying to help you out, cut him some slack.”

“Help me out, by aiding and abetting in my completely inappropriate - “

“Helping you out by bringing you home and making sure you got tucked in safely. He said it himself, he’s a wiseass, not a jackass.”

Kate can only hope that those words are more than a clever quip.

*

Thursday morning dawns, and Kate resigns herself to what she hopes will be a mercifully brief stage of probably merciless ribbing from her sidekick. She’s back at the precinct, to the relief of Ryan and Esposito, who tell her that they “saved some of the weird ones for you, Beckett”.

“How thoughtful of you,” she says with the expected eyeroll, just as the elevator doors open and release Castle into their territory. She immediately focuses on whatever folder is in her hand and resolutely does not look around until he deposits her usual coffee on her desk, with a flourish worthy of a magician.

“Good morning, Detective,” he says, sliding into his usual seat with a sunny smile. “Glad to see you back in the saddle. Fully recovered, I take it?”

“I am, thanks,” says Kate. “And - thanks for getting me home in one piece, the other day.”

“About that - “

Kate nearly chokes on her (very good) coffee; Castle, oblivious, goes on talking.

“ - what was your original plan, Beckett? You told the doctor you had a ride home, but you didn’t, did you?”

She gives him the blankest look possible over the rim of her cup.

“Did you think you’d call a cab? Not the subway, certainly. You’re too cautious to ride the subway while doped,” he muses. “Why not get Lanie to do it? Or your dad?”

Kate sighs. He’s not going to give up, so she replies, “Dad’s out of town, and Lanie was on shift. I figured I’d go, have the procedure done, then see how I felt before imposing on anyone for a ride.”

Castle shakes his head, disapproving. “Sometimes I feel like I’m talking to Alexis,” he says, but there’s an amused twinkle in his eye. “It’s surgery, Beckett. Not like getting a cavity filled, where they give you a local that allows you to function normally.”

“‘Normally’ isn’t a concept you usually embrace, Castle.” Okay, this is more like their usual back and forth, she thinks. Let’s get past this and back on level ground. “Point taken. Can I get back to work now? Whoops, another concept you don’t embrace.”

“Promise me, if you need to have anything like that done again, if you ever need a ride, you’ll call me.”

His tone is unusually earnest and his expression is unguardedly sincere. She nods and says quietly, “I will, if I need to. I promise. And thanks again, Castle.”

“I appreciate that rare expression of trust, Beckett,” says Castle, sitting back in his chair and getting out his phone, most likely to start a new game of Fruit Ninja. Kate returns her gaze to the case in front of her. All is well, back to normal - until he speaks up again.

“You might say that I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”


End file.
